


Four People Chuck Kind of Maybe Sort of Slept With, Five Times He Regretted It, And Once He Accepted His Free-Fall

by tuesday



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Multi, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-02
Updated: 2009-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four people Chuck kind of maybe sort of slept with, five times he regretted it, and once he accepted his free-fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four People Chuck Kind of Maybe Sort of Slept With, Five Times He Regretted It, And Once He Accepted His Free-Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to my beta, [](http://svmadelyn.livejournal.com/profile)[**svmadelyn**](http://svmadelyn.livejournal.com/)! The last line was mostly stolen from one of her suggestions. *g*

1\. Chuck vs. Bryce Larkin, College Roommate

The end of the second semester of his second year of Stanford, Chuck and Jill were "taking a break," and Chuck knew as well as anyone else what that meant.

"Why couldn't she have just said 'let's be friends' and been done with it?" Chuck asked miserably, sprawled across Bryce's twin bed because his own was covered by books, his backpack, and a large pile of clean laundry he hadn't managed to drudge up the energy to fold after Jill broke the news via e-mail. _E-mail_.

Bryce was also lounging in his bed, pressed against the wall to give Chuck more room, and Chuck's entire right side was pressed flush against Bryce's front. Bryce carded a hand consolingly through Chuck's hair as he said, "It's three weeks before finals. Don't be hasty."

"I'm not being hasty," Chuck said. "I'm being realistic. This is a relationship death blow."

"Are you sure?" Bryce asked softly.

"Positive," Chuck said and curled into Bryce, nestled his face against the curve of Bryce's shoulder so Bryce wouldn't see when the inevitable weeping began.

"Sleep on it," Bryce said, and Chuck felt Bryce press a kiss to the crown of his head before running his fingers through Chuck's hair again. Bryce could be comforting like that. He didn't even yell at Chuck for falling asleep there, breathing in Bryce's clean smell of soap and fabric softener (Bryce had just done laundry, too) and lulled by the gentle patterns Bryce's fingers drew against Chuck's scalp.

Chuck slept through until morning, waking to find Bryce's arms wrapped warm around him and one of Bryce's hands lying gentle and protective against the back of Chuck's neck. The other was nestled under the thin cotton of his shirt, callused fingers rough against his spine. The phone was ringing, and Bryce's eyes were inscrutable as he released Chuck to answer it.

It was Jill.

She explained, laughing and rambling a little, that no, she was not breaking up with him, but projects were making her crazy, and she hadn't slept for three days, and maybe she could have phrased things a little more clearly, but she did still love Chuck and she did still want to be together. Just, not until finals were over, or at least a few of her bigger projects were turned in.

And it wasn't so much that Chuck regretted it, on that bright morning following the first night he spent in Bryce's bed, shielding his eyes with one hand as Bryce opened the blinds. At the time, the only thing Chuck regretted was whatever had bleached from Bryce's face the drowsy, contented expression that had graced his features before Chuck had curled into Bryce's shoulder and nodded off.

The morning's light drew sharp contrasts along Bryce's figure, and when he turned to face Chuck, back to the window, his eyes were shadowed.

—

2\. Chuck vs. Morgan Grimes, Best Friend

For the first few weeks after Chuck returned from Standford, Morgan assigned himself to Chuck Watch. He wasn't even subtle about it.

Morgan made sure they had all the same shifts at the Buy More once he convinced Chuck to apply, made sure they took the same lunch break, followed Chuck home once work was over—Morgan even took to camping out on Chuck's bedroom floor for several nights until Chuck wearily patted the large, achingly empty space of his mattress, at which point Morgan crawled in and hogged the covers, stole all the pillows, and basically did everything he could to provoke some reaction from Chuck, anything at all. Morgan even seemed to take some demented delight in Chuck's anger, said that it was a start in pulling Chuck back out of the numb despair that had sucked him under so thoroughly upon the realization of Bryce's betrayal.

When they slept together, Morgan would pillow his head on Chuck's chest and cling to Chuck's torso like he was afraid to let go. In the night, sometimes he would shift in his sleep, and his beard would scratch against Chuck's neck or collarbone when his t-shirt collar slipped low. Morgan was a restless sleeper, and he tended to cop a feel while half-dreaming and not really paying attention to the fact it was Chuck's body underneath his own, before he woke more fully and patted Chuck's shoulder, saying only, "Hey there, buddy, how are you this morning," tired molestations immediately forgotten.

Morgan was like a poorly manufactured sexual harassment teddy bear, and once Chuck let him into his bed, it was pretty much impossible to evict him. Morgan was infuriating and endearing and still the best friend Chuck had ever had (even if Chuck had once been mistaken, thought maybe Morgan had some competition).

And so Morgan's persistence paid off. Despite himself, Chuck started to laugh again, managed more than a handful of hours of sleep a night. Ellie stopped commenting on the dark circles under his eyes, and the circles themselves faded. Morgan deemed Operation: Pester Chuck to Mental Health a success, and if they still had all the same shifts and took the same lunch breaks and Morgan followed Chuck home afterward, that was more due to Morgan being a needy best friend than out of any driving concern. At the end of each evening, Morgan started going home.

Once he was gone, try as Chuck might, he was never quite able to find that cool, almost comfortably numb place again. To be honest, there were many times that he missed it.

—

3\. Chuck vs. Jill Roberts, Ex- (Ex-) Girlfriend

In the moment, it was perfect. They kissed and kissed and kissed, tongues and lips moving languorously together. They undressed one another with reverential hands, and Chuck whispered prayers of thanks against Jill's skin, into her open mouth, drew gentle lines of gratitude along her body.

She pulled him against her and said, "I missed—" and "I want—" and "I love—" and she was so soft and warm and welcoming that Chuck felt like someone stepping out into the sun after too long spent hiding in shadows.

"This is perfect," Chuck said. "You're perfect."

He half-thought, half-remembered, that this was what the height of love felt like.

Chuck should have remembered instead what it felt like to fall.

—

4\. Chuck vs. Sarah Walker, Handler Girlfriend Handler It's Complicated

They never slept together.

Well, they did, but only for their cover, and it was only sleeping.

. . . In the interest of full disclosure, they nearly did (and not sleeping-sleeping) any number of times. Not counting all of the times Bryce interfered—with either his actual presence, or simply as a name unspoken hanging heavy between them like a curtain made of steel—it almost happened three times, and only once that really mattered.

Chuck wasn't sure who kissed whom, but that wasn't what was important.

They weren't on a mission. Casey was off doing some Casey thing (Chuck imagined Casey things involved obsessive oiling of his guns, or independent assignments, or maybe him off being a secret super hero, spreading peace and fear of shoplifting across the citizens of Buymoria; the ways of Casey were still a mystery to Chuck). The castle had surveillance, but that was kind of difficult to remember when Sarah's legs were pressed between his own and she had him backed against a wall, her tongue moving confidently against his mouth, her hands up his suddenly untucked shirt and nails scratching gently at his skin.

When Chuck went to return the favor, she pulled away.

"Wait," she said. "Wait."

Chuck did, tried to calm his labored breathing, convince his heart it didn't really need to leap out of his chest to take up residence in hers. Sarah stepped back, though her palms remained pressed under his shirt, against his hips.

"We can't do this," she said.

"We just were!" Chuck waved his hands, convinced it made him look like a crazy person, but unable to help himself.

"_I_ can't do this," Sarah said.

They were quiet a moment, and upon further consideration, Chuck realized he couldn't, either.

They separated. Chuck went back to the Buy More, because Lester needed someone to cover his shift, and Chuck didn't trust either of them to remain in the same room alone together and not do _something_. Work was a welcome distraction. Sarah didn't stop him from walking out, and Chuck knew this was because it was the right thing to do.

Knowing this didn't stop him from regretting at the time that it never went any further.

—

5\. Chuck vs. Bryce Larkin, International Super Spy

It just sort of happened. Casey was injured (shot in the leg and shoulder during a bank robbery gone wrong when all Chuck wanted to do inquire about a loan on Morgan's behalf); Sarah was off on another assignment no one bothered telling Chuck the details of, only that she was the only person who could do the job, apparently (though Chuck suspected she wouldn't have gone if she'd known Casey was going to get shot); and Bryce was in town for something Chuck suspected had to do with a Columbian arms dealer Chuck had flashed on while walking out of the hospital with Casey, who'd refused the wheelchair and was hobbling out with the assistance of only one crutch.

Long story short, Casey was benched, Chuck was reluctantly teamed up with Bryce, and once the arms dealer was put away, they had a spare hotel room and two five hundred dollar bottles of champagne that were just going to go to waste otherwise.

Chuck remembered Bryce laughing as he said, "I'd forgotten how much of a lightweight you are," and Chuck remembered downing his seventh glass of champagne in one long, defiant swallow, but he wasn't quite sure what led to him pushing Bryce into the soft down duvet covering the king-size bed, nor what led to his tongue slipping into Bryce's mouth and his hands into Bryce's pants. He certainly didn't remember what happened between that and being naked, somehow suddenly lying underneath Bryce as he whispered, voice tight and hot and some strange thing that wasn't quite angry, but wasn't pleased, either: "Fine, sure. I'll show you."

Chuck couldn't really regret that night—in the morning he was sore and happy and still flying on endorphins. But he did regret not remembering most of it, especially what question he'd asked that had prompted Bryce to answer with a blow job.

What Chuck regretted most of all, though, was that Bryce was gone in the morning, all traces of his presence save for the marks on Chuck's body having been thoroughly erased. Even the empty champagne bottles were gone.

After Chuck showered and dressed, there was a knock at the door, and he felt a brief swell of hope. On opening it, he found Sarah, returned and come to collect him. Chuck only wished he could regret his disappointment.

—

6\. Chuck vs. Bryce Larkin, Still A Total Geek No Matter What Cool Spy Schools He's Attended

Chuck's life wasn't any easier or less complicated when Bryce returned a month later, but this made Chuck no less glad to see him. Even reminding himself that Bryce had possibly ruined all chances for Chuck to ever have a normal life (or that Bryce had _done a walk of shame_ the last time Chuck (hadn't) seen him) failed to dampen his joy when Bryce appeared out of the shadows in the garden foyer of the apartment building.

Well, okay, first Chuck shrieked like a frightened girl or, or a boy who had yet to reach puberty and the accompanying voice change. It was kind of undignified, to put it mildly. But once Chuck was over that and Bryce had pressed a dry, warm palm over Chuck's mouth to quell his screams, Chuck had to admit that his next reaction was one of a rising happiness. Chuck meant to be irate or at least a little irked, but instead there was this fluttery feeling flooding up from his chest, almost like champagne bubbling over, and thoughts of champagne led to thoughts of the last time he'd drunk champagne, and Bryce's hand over his mouth was triggering some kind of sense memory, so really, Chuck couldn't be blamed at all for being weak and unable to muster so much as a frown.

"Special mission?" Chuck asked after Bryce had released him.

Bryce smiled, and somehow his fingers had ended up encircling Chuck's bony wrist. Bryce's thumb traced lazily back and forth along one of Chuck's pulsepoints, and his smile was wicked when he said, "That's not what I'm here for." He leaned closer, and Chuck leaned in, as well, at which point Bryce said, "Unless you mean one in your pants."

So Chuck was laughing and had to smack Bryce in the shoulder even as Bryce finally closed the distance remaining between them.

Later, of course, Chuck discovered that this was a lie (though maybe Bryce was so jaded to the spy's life that the pirate-ninja-jewel-thieves were just a run of the mill mission for him), but he didn't really mind. He didn't even mind that once more Bryce failed to wake him before leaving. Even Bryce having somehow arranged for Sarah and Casey to pick him up at Bryce's hotel room failed to faze him.

Because this time, Bryce had left a love letter, of sorts. In Klingon. On a flash drive.

And okay, so maybe when Chuck plugged it in and answered the program's riddle involving an obscure allusion to their early college life in his own rusty Klingon, he was immediately inundated with a slew of images that turned out to be yet another update to the Intersect.

But the point is, this time, Chuck recognized it for what it was.

His only problem was trying to figure out an equivalent means of expressing "geeky asshole spy in love," but that, Chuck figured, was something to look forward to. As many troubles as it brought him—dancing around the subject with Sarah; enduring Casey's knowing and highly disapproving looks; unable to tell Morgan he was once more giving his heart to someone who'd crushed it in college; even fully anticipating this time around that he had a very long way to fall—

Chuck couldn't bring himself to regret it.

(The next time, though, was another story. But so was the time after that, and after that. It was a work in progress—emphasis on work—and, like all things involving Bryce Larkin, there were layers upon layers that hurt Chuck's head worse than the Intersect sometimes; but the missions in his pants totally made it worth it.)


End file.
